


Perspicuous

by tricksterity



Series: Wildering [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Child Abuse, Coming Out, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 17:33:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10858761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricksterity/pseuds/tricksterity
Summary: The War is over, and Harry and Theo have retreated to the solitude of Grimmauld Place to heal and be together after their year of separation. Theo, however, has some new scars that Harry has never seen before, and he refuses to say aloud what has happened.Harry fell into Theo’s arms and the two twined their limbs together until it would take a cyclone to rip them apart. The collar of Theo’s shirt slid down past his collarbone and over his shoulder, and Harry rubbed a finger over the tip of a scar that peeked out from just over the edge on Theo’s arm.“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Harry asked, quietly. The silence in the room was overwhelming and almost deafening. Theo swallowed thickly against Harry’s forehead.“I don’t want to,” Theo finally admitted, voice so faint Harry wouldn’t have heard it had they not been so close.





	Perspicuous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lifeofben3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeofben3/gifts).



> Written as instalment two for Ben, who is honestly keeping my bank account out of the negatives at this point! Had a blast writing it and coming back to these beautiful broken boys :)

 

* * *

 

Harry was entirely in a daze.

 

The Great Hall was absolutely packed to the brim with dead bodies, students crying and others laughing, cheering and singing with joy. The relief was palpable, an almost physical thing that bubbled in the air around them, but the overwhelming grief pressed in from above like furious and unrelenting stormclouds, not allowing anyone to forget how their victory only came through sacrifice and death.

 

Hermione had only just stopped crying and clinging to Harry for dear life, and was holding Ron’s hand over by where the Weasleys were either still sobbing or numb with grief over the body of Fred. Harry couldn’t stand to look at George, to see the sorrow of having the one you loved the most – the one you shared a womb with – lie still and unmoving before you.

 

Overwhelmed, and utterly exhausted, Harry made his way out of the Great Hall as unobtrusively as he could when everyone he passed felt the need to slap him on the shoulder in thanks, or those he knew better pulled him into a hug. His body barely moved in response, and he felt separate from himself entirely. Where before he’d felt like the only non-corporeal being in the world, a ghost passing through before death, he now felt as though he hadn’t returned to his body yet. Like the thread that bound him to his physical form was the thinnest tether, about to snap at any moment, sending him back to King’s Cross.

 

Then hands reached out from a hidden alcove not too far from the Great Hall, and suddenly Harry could feel again.

 

He was bundled up into the arms of his boyfriend, and the weight of reality and physical form came crashing back down. Exhaustion caused his muscles to seize up and Harry all but collapsed, weakly lifting his arms to wrap around Theo’s shoulders, breathing in the familiar scent that accompanied Theo everywhere. The scent that Harry had missed for a year, had dreamed about, longed for, _died_ for.

 

In the arms of the boy Harry loved, he finally felt alive again.

 

“Don’t you _ever_ fucking do that again,” Theo swore, gripping tightly onto the back of Harry’s clothes so hard that if it had been his skin, Theo would’ve left bruises, maybe even scratches of desperation. Harry nuzzled his face into Theo’s hair and nodded weakly, wrapping himself in the shroud of love and comfort he felt, scraping his fingertips over the back of Theo’s neck and up into his hairline.

 

Somehow the two of them managed to make their way back to the abandoned Slytherin common room, students’ things strewn about the place in the hurry to leave or fight. Harry refused to let go of Theo, needing to be grounded again, while Theo wanted to make sure that Harry was alive and in front of him. They both needed the physical reality to feel safe again.

 

It was no surprise that they quickly found themselves stripping their clothes off and collapsing into Theo’s bed, hands gripping tightly around thighs and backs and fingers pulling hair. Harry felt thick, ropy scars across Theo’s back with his fingertips, but when he opened his mouth to question them Theo hushed him with a kiss and desperately begged him not to ask, not to stop, to keep going.

 

And so he did, even though his heart leapt into his throat every time his touch grazed past a new scar that hadn’t been on Theo a year ago when they’d first begun to learn each other’s bodies, but despite the worry the two managed to lose themselves in each other.

 

Upon waking up, covered in sunlight, Harry could see the scars more clearly.

 

He knew what skin looked like when it had been sliced into with _diffindo_. Hermione had a slur carved into her arm using that exact spell.

 

Thin slashes covered Theo’s back in haphazard directions – seven of them – stretching across the width of his shoulders or down to his hips. The scars were silvery-peach and puckered about the edges, but they didn’t look old. Some of the smaller ones on Theo’s upper arms were still a little red, towards the end of the healing process. Those couldn’t have been more than a few weeks old at best.

 

Anger bubbled up inside Harry, pooled and swirled like a storm, at the thought of someone _hurting_ Theo.

 

At the thought of Theo screaming out in pain.

 

The thought of Theo crying, begging for it to stop.

 

Theo being hurt because of _him._

 

That was why Theo was so reluctant to tell Harry, he knew. The daylight revealed to him that the scars were acquired in the last year, that they were punishments for something, and that it was too deliberate and sadistic for a student to have done. The only adults in Theo’s life were the teachers at the school and Death Eaters.

 

And some of those teachers _were_ Death Eaters.

 

Theo had been a Slytherin who, while not outwardly opposing Voldemort, certainly didn’t support the cause his father and fellow roommates did. Of course someone would punish him for that. Of course someone would hurt his sensitive and strong boyfriend because Theo didn’t want to participate in senseless murder and oppression.

 

Of course it would be because Theo stood at Harry’s side.

 

When Theo finally hauled himself out of bed and stretched his naked body in the sunlight, his scars glinted on his skin, and they looked so out of place Harry wanted to scrub them off with his bare hands. Theo could tell where Harry’s gaze was following, and the both of them were silent on the subject.

 

Harry, despite the itch to ask, to _demand_ who would dare hurt Theo so that Harry could deliver righteous punishment, stayed silent for an entire week. Stayed silent during the clean-up of Hogwarts, the funerals, the statues being erected in honour of the dead, the mourning.

 

It was also at the end of that week that Harry dropped the bomb to Ron and Hermione that he wouldn’t be returning with them immediately to the Burrow for the summer holiday. All three of them had decided to return for eighth year after McGonagall offered it, and it was sort of an unspoken rule that with Grimmauld Place empty and the Dursleys gone that Harry would be staying with the Weasleys for the forseeable future.

 

“What d’you mean you’re not staying with us?” Ron said, halfway through hoisting his bag over his shoulder, reaching out for Hermione. “Where else would you stay?”

 

Harry laughed at Ron’s immediate concern and confusion.

 

“I just… I need to process everything that’s happened, and I need some time to myself. I can’t really do that in a house with fifty Weasleys,” Harry replied. “I’ll be fine at Grimmauld. I’m thinking about asking Andromeda to move in with Teddy, and Kreacher will enjoy having a real Black in the house again.”

 

Hermione’s eyes were full of understanding, and a little bit of pity, but Harry was used to it by now. He knew just as well as her that none of them deserved to go through what they had been, and that everyone coped with it differently.

 

“Alright, mate,” Ron said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “But our door’s open to you no matter the time of day or night. You don’t even need to ring the bell or firecall first. I’m sure Mum would love to wake up and have you passed out on our lounge floor.”

 

Harry laughed and clapped Ron on the shoulder before pulling his best friends into a hug. Hermione’s hair, as per usual, stifled his breath a little between them all, and smelled like Ron’s shampoo.

 

“See you soon,” Harry said.

 

“But not _too_ soon, Harry,” Hermione replied with a sternly pointed finger. “Take all the time you need. You deserve it.”

 

“You too, ‘Mione. Good luck with your parents.”

 

The two of them walked hand-in-hand out of Hogwarts grounds and turned on the spot, apparating away. Feeling suddenly alone, Harry almost ran back to the castle and up to the Slytherin dormitories where Theo was packing his things.

 

“What did you tell them?” he asked, folding up a scarf with meticulous precision.

 

“That I needed time to process everything,” Harry said casually, stepping up behind Theo and wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. “I never said that I’d be alone for it.”

 

“I don’t expect you to lie to them for me,” Theo murmured, running his fingers nervously about the edges of his trunk meaninglessly. Harry reached around and grabbed Theo’s wrists, tangling their fingers together, and pressed a kiss to the nape of Theo’s neck, sending shivers down his boyfriend’s spine.

 

“I’m not lying,” Harry replied. “I just omitted information that they didn’t need to know, like I have been for the past two years. Don’t feel bad, I don’t mind. When you’re ready we can let them know.”

 

Theo turned around in Harry’s arms, dark eyes full of reluctance and guilt.

 

“What if I’m never ready?” Theo whispered under his breath. Harry let go of one of Theo’s hands to tip his chin up, forcing Theo to make eye contact with him.

 

“Then we’ll figure that out when we get to it,” Harry replied, breath ghosting over Theo’s lips. “We’re all adults now, we can handle it.” He reached forward to kiss the Slytherin, just a dry brush of lips against each other, as light as passing wind.

 

They remained in each other’s presence for an unknowable amount of time, losing themselves in gentle kisses and soft hands, enjoying being able to hold each other again. Harry had lost count of the number of times over the past year he’d dreamed of just being able to hold Theo like this, wishing to smell his skin and see the way Theo held himself when he sketched and the flutter of his lashes.

 

“We have as much time together as we’d like,” Harry breathed into the space between them when they finally parted. “Yours or mine?”

 

Theo laughed.

 

“Yours, please,” he said. “I think the aurors are still raiding mine. Could get awkward.”

 

Harry grinned and pulled Theo in for another kiss, entirely and unstoppably in love. And with Voldemort gone, he could enjoy it.

 

* * *

 

 They stumbled a little upon arriving on the landing to Grimmauld Place, and a quick look around showed that there weren’t any Death Eaters in the vicinity – they must’ve decided that poking around the Black house was less important than invading Hogwarts. That didn’t stop Harry from pulling his wand out and checking the house thoroughly for traps upon entering. The place was a bit of a mess, but Theo was brilliant with cleaning spells – he was meticulous and clean and held the patience needed to return everything to its place, unlike Harry who’d never lived anywhere larger than a cupboard under the stairs or a spare bedroom.

 

Kreacher was nowhere to be seen, but Harry figured that he’d show up again at some point.

 

“So this is yours?” Theo asked, peering up the staircase in awe.

 

“Yeah,” Harry replied. “We stayed here for a good portion of the year before Yaxley chased us out. Sirius left it for me.”

 

Theo reached out and tangled his fingers with Harry’s in support. He knew that the wound of Sirius’ death was still, even after nearly three years, raw and aching in Harry’s chest. It seemed that all family Harry had was destined to die.

 

“Show me your room?” Theo asked, as transparent a distraction as any, but it helped. They went up to the second floor to the room that Harry and Ron had shared when they first arrived when the house was used by the Order, and the room that Harry later claimed for himself. They never figured out who it belonged to, and there wasn’t a plaque on the front door like on Sirius and Regulus’ rooms, and the décor was rather bland compared to the rest of the house.

 

Theo approached the large queen-size bed and flopped down on it, sighing at the softness, and Harry laughed as Theo splayed out spread-eagle on his back.

 

“Come here,” Theo said, and Harry followed him, helpless to resist. He fell into Theo’s arms and the two twined their limbs together until it would take a cyclone to rip them apart. The collar of Theo’s shirt slid down past his collarbone and over his shoulder, and Harry rubbed a finger over the tip of a scar that peeked out from just over the edge on Theo’s arm.

 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Harry asked, quietly. The silence in the room was overwhelming and almost deafening. Theo swallowed thickly against Harry’s forehead.

 

“I don’t want to,” Theo finally admitted, voice so faint Harry wouldn’t have heard it had they not been so close. Harry pulled away to look at Theo, who was staring up at the ceiling with a thousand-yard stare, seeing things that weren’t there. His lashes were thick and dark and his freckles were a galaxy of stars upon his cheekbones and nose. He was so beautiful.

 

Harry leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Theo’s jawline.

 

“I know you don’t want to worry me,” Harry said, between kisses, “and that you don’t want to relive whatever it was. But I know more than anyone that you need to talk about it to work through it. Or it won’t just scar your body, but your mind. Forever.”

 

Theo exhaled heavily, and looked down at Harry, appearing thoroughly unimpressed.

 

“Why did you have to get so wise in your year of being a fugitive?” he accused, and Harry grinned.

 

“All the better to help you with.”

 

Theo rolled his eyes and pulled Harry down into another kiss, deepening it and wrapping his legs around Harry’s waist, effectively cutting off any more serious conversation for the near future.

 

It was night by the time that Harry woke up from the doze that he’d fallen into after exerting _quite_ a bit of energy. He turned to his boyfriend only to discover that the bed was empty, rumpled sheets cool to the touch when he reached out to feel Theo’s leftover warmth. Concerned, Harry pulled on a robe that hung off the back of the wardrobe and padded downstairs, using the tip of his wand to light up the dark hallways of the Black household. Turning the lights on didn’t seem to be an option, somehow.

 

Harry checked the kitchen, knowing Theo’s propensity for snacking in the middle of the night, but found it empty. Frowning, he continued through the hallway, creeping silently past the covered portrait of Walburga Black, and emerged into the living room.

 

Theo sat on the couch near the window, arms wrapped around his knees, staring out into the darkened street before him. It seemed that every time the moonlight shone on the soft features of Theo Nott, he became some ethereal, incorporeal creature that Harry could never reach. It seemed like if Harry reached out to touch him he would disappear entirely, and he would be left alone again.

 

The moonlight shone down onto Theo’s pale skin, as he was clad only in pyjama pants, and his bare toes dug into the fabric of the couch beneath him. His scars were in plain view – stretching across his back like whip marks or branding, and the thin slices down his arms looked much more savage than they did in the daytime.

 

Somehow, Harry and Theo, despite being together for two years, were unable to have serious conversations that weren’t beneath the hushed midnight sky or through secret handwritten letters.

 

“Are you alright?” Harry asked quietly, creeping closer. Theo huffed out a quiet laugh through his nose, barely a noise, the corner of his lip turning up in a self-deprecating manner.

 

“Are any of us?” he asked.

 

Raising a brow, Harry slid onto the couch next to Theo and tipped his head onto the back of the sofa to more easily look at Theo’s marble features. He looked like a sculpture in a museum held back by rope, so close but utterly untouchable. Harry didn’t like that.

 

“That’s a little cynical, even for you,” Harry said, reaching out to wrap a hand about Theo’s thin ankles, feeling the bones beneath his skin, no cool marble to be felt. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

He was silent while Theo chewed the inside of his lips, the inside of his cheeks, thinking it over. Harry rubbed his thumb softly up and down over the jut of bone on his boyfriend’s ankle, admiring the solid reality of being back with him. Sometimes Harry woke up and still expected to be on the run, separated from the world around him; just he, Ron and Hermione living a false little life.

 

“It was my father,” Theo admitted heavily into the night.

 

Harry’s hand spasmed around Theo’s ankle.

 

“He knew that I wasn’t going to join the Death Eaters,” Theo continued, voice flat and empty the same way Harry’s went when he spoke about Sirius. “I thought I’d gotten away with just being on the sidelines of the war until I went home for the Christmas holiday. He must’ve found out about the rebellion at Hogwarts, and he either assumed I was helping them or wasn’t doing anything to stop them. He got mad.”

 

The shaky breath that left Harry’s lungs was carefully measured.

 

“He ordered me to join the Dark Lord. I said no. So he punished me,” Theo breathed, fingers twitching where he grasped his own arms for comfort. “Said that if I wasn’t with them then I was against them, that it was my mother’s blood that made me a traitor, that he never wanted me in the first place. That he should have killed me the moment he knew I was born or sent me off to live with my mother instead of keeping me.”

 

“Fuck,” Harry swore. Theo swallowed.

 

“He did the three biggest ones on my back that night,” he continued. “Slashed right through my clothes, and left me to bleed out on the floor. I had to drag myself upstairs and into the bathroom, and it took me nearly twenty minutes to be able to take my shirt off over my head. I lay down in the bath and wanted to die.”

 

The choked out noise that escaped Harry’s throat wasn’t something he’d ever heard himself make before. Almost subconsciously, Theo reached out to hold the nape of Harry’s neck, scratching his fingers through his hairline, comforting Harry when he was the one telling such a tragic tale.

 

“I only knew basic healing spells, so the scars are worse than I’d hoped they would be,” Theo admitted, shrugging. “I should’ve paid more attention in class. The next day my father acted like it never happened, like I wasn’t watching my every step or wincing when I had to move. He seemed to just… ignore me.”

 

Harry wanted Theo to stop talking, to give both of them a breather, but he’d _asked_ for this and Theo was finally telling him.

 

“Every time he was called to the Malfoy Manor he got set off again when he came home and saw me,” Theo murmured, eyes shining in the dim light. “Even when I tried to hide in my room he’d blast the door open and start yelling at me. I never really listened to it, some kind of pureblood propaganda I’m sure, but the only thing I could hear was the blood rushing in my head.

 

“Sometimes… most of the time he preferred the little ones on my arms. Little insidious cuts that stung every time I reached out for something, and he could make more of them than the mess he was making of my back. He saved those ones for special occasions,” Theo whispered. “The day he found out somehow that I was working with Ginny Weasley was the day I finally fought back against him. I left home with everything I could summon on short notice and returned to school, and hid out in the Room of Requirement with the other halfblood kids who had nowhere to go.”

 

“Theo…” Harry breathed, unable to muster up words. His boyfriend’s lips rose up briefly into a self-deprecating, pitying smile.

 

“It’s okay,” Theo replied. “It feels… disconnected to me. Like it happened to somebody else. I’m over it now, it’s been weeks. Months.”

 

Harry reached out to gently hold Theo’s chin, turning his face until Theo was no longer staring out into nothing but looking directly at Harry.

 

“You’re not over it,” Harry whispered. “You’re in shock. You’re disassociating from it entirely. You’re hiding it, pushing it further into the back of your mind. Trust me, I know what that feels like.”

 

Theo reached a hand up and wrapped it around Harry’s wrist.

 

“But I’m okay like this,” Theo said, frowning a little. “Why should I change that?”

 

Harry moved forward until he and Theo were pressed together, and tipped his head so that their foreheads touched. Each breath brought their lips brushing together, and a shudder went down Harry’s spine at the intimacy of it.

 

“Do you remember the night we first spoke, and I told you that I couldn’t speak about Sirius?” Harry asked, and he felt Theo nod behind closed eyelids. “That’s something I hadn’t fully processed. I blocked it out and pretended it hadn’t happened, tried not to think about it. And it tore me up inside. But the night that Dumbledore died? The night that I got angry, and cried, and you kissed me until I could breathe again? That _hurt_ , but it helped me to heal. You can’t keep these things locked up inside you where they won’t hurt you because then they’ll stay with you forever.”

 

“You’re saying I need to purge it from my system?” Theo huffed.

 

“However long it takes. And I’ll be with you the whole time.” Harry replied, pressing a gentle kiss to Theo’s lips.

 

“What if I’m not ready to feel it?” Theo confessed, nearly inaudible in the silence around them. Harry ran a hand through his boyfriend’s hair.

 

“I won’t make you do anything you aren’t ready for,” Harry replied. “But the longer you wait the more it builds up inside you, and one day it’ll be ripped out of you without your control.”

 

Theo swallowed thickly.

 

“I can’t,” he gasped, choking around the words that burst from him. “Not yet.”

 

“But one day you will, and I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

 

* * *

 

A week passed in Grimmauld Place as the two boys settled into post-war life. Theo was thriving in an environment where he was able to do whatever he wanted, when he wanted; and Harry was getting used to the sensation and absolute relief of no longer having the burdens of the Boy-Who-Lived. Most mornings when he first came into consciousness, he tensed up, and then felt Theo’s arms around him and realised that the war was over.

 

Some mornings he and Theo were productive, cooking breakfast together and keeping the house clean, and other mornings they were lazy and kept each other in bed until well past midday, smiling into each other’s mouths.

 

Harry transferred custody of Teddy to Andromeda for the moment, knowing that even though he was the little blue-haired baby’s godfather, he was in no place to be a parent, considering that he wasn’t yet eighteen and planned to return to Hogwarts for their eighth year. Andromeda was thrilled, and would be moving back into Grimmauld Place with Teddy as soon as she got her own house sorted – a house that was too big and empty without her husband and daughter.

 

One morning, when Theo had gone out for groceries, Harry finally got around to fire-calling the Burrow.

 

“HARRY!” was the immediate, deafening response. It seemed like every single Weasley (plus Hermione) had been in the kitchen eating lunch and he’d caught them all at a bad time. Something about seeing them again broke Harry out of the small, otherworldly bubble that he and Theo had been living in, and he burst out into laughter while trying to hold his tears back. He tied his hair into a bun, using the excuse of pulling all his hair off his face to wipe away the tears, but he knew that Hermione at least knew what he was doing.

 

“We’ve missed you so much dear, how are you?” Molly asked, pushing her way to the front of the crowd of Weasleys. “Are you eating enough? Has Kreacher come back yet to take care of you? Do you need me to send something through?”

 

Harry laughed and pushed his glasses up his nose. “I’m alright, Mrs Weasley, thank you,” he said. “I just thought I’d check in since I know how worried Ron and Hermione get.”

 

“ _And_ your co-captain,” Ginny pouted, crossing her arms. “Nothing for a _week._ ”

 

“Careful, Gin,” Ron teased, “you’re starting to sound like Mum.”

 

“I am not! You take that back!” Ginny yelled, slapping Ron over the head. Molly rolled her eyes and snapped at them to knock it off, and Harry was glad that they seemed to be, if not recovering, dealing with the aftermath of the battle. George, however, was still uncharacteristically silent. He probably would be for a while.

 

“How _are_ you doing, Harry? Really?” Hermione asked, squatting down next to the fireplace.

 

Harry smiled. “Alright, ‘Mione,” he replied. “Still getting used to the fact that I’m not in grave danger every day, getting used to having my own space, getting used to figuring out what I want. You?”

 

Ron squatted down next to Hermione and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She leaned into him, curly hair half getting in his face, and she smiled contently. That was all Harry needed to know.

 

The front door opened and closed in rapid succession, and Harry turned to see Theo making his way awkwardly down the hallway with bags of groceries. He motioned to Theo to let him know that he was on a call, and Theo stared for a moment before shrugging and passing him to put the things on the kitchen bench.

 

“Is someone with you, Harry?” Ron asked.

 

It took only a second of eye contact with his boyfriend for Harry to know what Theo was conveying.

 

“Yeah,” he replied. “Theo’s out of a home at the moment with the aurors raiding pureblood houses, so he’s staying here with me.”

 

“Theo?” Hermione frowned. “Theo Nott?”

 

In response, Theo crouched down next to Harry and joined the call.

 

“Uh, yeah,” he murmured awkwardly. “Hi, Ginny.” In response, Ginny smiled brightly and waved at him.

 

“Hey, mate,” Ron replied just as awkwardly, and Hermione rolled her eyes at them.

 

“I’m glad you’re not alone in that horrible old place, Harry,” she replied. “And I’m glad that Theo has somewhere to stay. Ginny says that Theo was indispensable during the last year.”

 

“Well, I tried my best.”

 

“And you did brilliantly,” Ginny piped up. “We honestly couldn’t have been so successful this year without you, Theo. Speaking of which, you two might want to check the Daily Prophet today if you haven’t already. I imagine the top story will be of some importance.”

 

Harry thanked Ginny for the heads up and ended the call a few minutes later once the small talk had died down a little. He was content knowing that his adoptive family were recovering, even if they would never be the same again.

 

Theo busied himself with putting away their groceries, and Harry couldn’t resist stepping up behind him, wrapping his arms about Theo’s waist, burying his face into Theo’s hair. His boyfriend relaxed back into his hold, and Harry enjoyed the closeness, the casual intimacy of such a position, and tightened his grip.

 

“What’d you buy?” he asked.

 

“I thought I’d make pasta tonight,” Theo said. “I’m not great, but I found a pamphlet at the supermarket with some pretty simple pasta recipes. I’m forgoing the mushrooms though, because they’re disgusting.”

 

Harry laughed and pressed a kiss to Theo’s temple. “Your number one weakness is mushrooms?”

 

“No,” Theo said, clearly rolling his eyes even though Harry couldn’t see the motion. “ _You’re_ my number one weakness, and mushrooms are just disgusting.”

 

Grinning, Harry nosed his way down Theo’s neck and pressed a kiss to the side of his throat, right over a fading bruise that they’d both enjoyed the creation of. “What a coincidence, since you’re my number one weakness too.”

 

“I thought your number one weakness was your propensity for being a martyr,” Theo teased.

 

“That too,” Harry replied. “And my intense paranoia and suspicion, as Hermione has told me on many occasions.”

 

“So really I’m more of your number three or four weakness,” Theo laughed, squeezing Harry’s wrist.

 

“Are you _trying_ to make yourself less of a priority? Because it’s not working.”

 

“Oh, I’m your number one priority, don’t get me wrong.”

 

Harry snorted. “If you say my dick is _your_ number one priority, I’ll be very offended.”

 

“Of course not,” Theo replied innocently. “It’s your mouth.”

 

Laughing with absolutely no grace or dignity, Harry turned Theo around in his arms so he could put his number one priority to good use, and kissed the smile off Theo’s lips. It took them a significantly much longer time to put their groceries away than usual, but for once they still had all their clothes on.

 

It wasn’t until a few hours later that Harry remembered what Ginny told them about the Daily Prophet. Harry threw a hoodie on and apparated to Diagon Alley to pick up a copy, not quite yet ready to venture out into the general public as himself. He still wanted time for himself, to be _Harry_ , instead of the ‘Saviour of the Wizarding World’, as the papers had taken to calling him.

 

He didn’t look at the paper properly until he got back home to Grimmauld Place and put his glasses back on – taking them off somehow made people recognise him far less than usual, even if he did occasionally walk into things a little more than he usually would.

 

Then he realised why Ginny told them to read it.

 

 

**_Death Eaters Arrested During Hogwarts Battle On Trial!_ **

_Aurors have successfully completed their raids on the houses of captured and known Death Eaters, retrieving all the evidence needed to begin the multitude of trials, beginning on June 28, which are expected to last six months or longer. Family members and acquaintances have apparently been contacted to testify, according to an inside source in Magic Law Enforcement._

_Press admission to the trials are minimal, but this Daily Prophet reporter has been given exclusive access to cover the trials, the first being Rabastan Lestrange, brother-in-law of notorious Bellatrix Lestrange, who was bravely taken down by Order of the Phoenix member Molly Weasley._

_More information to follow._

Harry was frozen in the entryway, staring down at the newspaper below him, watching the image of aurors hauling in bound Death Eaters to the Ministry over and over again, on loop. Was Theo’s father one of them?

 

He could hear Theo messing about in the kitchen, probably making a cup of tea, entirely unaware of just what was happening in the outside world. They’d cut themselves off purposefully, wanting to spend time together healing after a year apart, and although logically they knew that Theo’s father had been arrested either at the battle or afterwards, it was a sudden and unpleasant reminder of reality to see this on the front page.

 

As much as he wanted to immediately set the paper on fire and burn it to ashes, he knew that Theo needed to read this – would _want_ to read it, even if he didn’t particularly enjoy what it said.

 

Silently Harry crossed the hallway and stopped in the kitchen doorway, Theo humming away to himself as he grabbed the container of sugar to add into his tea. It was a popular wizarding song that Harry vaguely recognised, but the only songs he knew any lyrics to were the Celestina Warbeck ones that Mrs Weasley was keen on playing over Christmastime. His grip tightened on the paper, and he cleared his throat.

 

Theo spun around with a smile on his face. “Harry! Just in time, I was-“ he paused, taking in Harry’s expression. “What’s wrong?”

 

Harry wordlessly held out the newspaper, showing Theo the title. It took less than a second for the smile to fall off Theo’s face and for all the blood to rush out of his cheeks, sending his skin ashen and more pale than it normally was.

 

“What does it say?” Theo asked, knuckles white around the handle of his mug.

 

“Trials are starting in a week, expected to last six months or more, and family members are being contacted to voluntarily testify,” Harry replied. “I don’t know if you’ll get a letter or not.”

 

Theo then looked over to the dining table where a list of letters had been sitting for a few days, neither of them really willing to check any of them out. He approached and methodically sorted through them until he came upon one with just his name on it and nothing else, no address. He turned it over, and the wax seal was stamped with the official Ministry seal. Neither of them had really thought it serious at the time, but now…

 

With shaking hands, Theo broke the seal and opened the letter.

 

 

> _Mr. Nott,_
> 
> _This is an official request for you to testify before the Wizengamot on 12 th July, in regards to case number 98-213 Samuel Xavier Nott. Testifying is not mandatory, but will help to strengthen the case and potentially alter sentencing outcomes. _
> 
> _Please reply to this letter at your earliest convenience, addressed to: Cubicle 23A, Basement Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, before 10 th July. Upon refusal, no further contact will be made, though more information will follow upon acceptance._
> 
> _Regards,_
> 
> _Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

The letter fluttered to the ground, and Theo soon followed it. Harry crouched down and held Theo to his chest, who was shaking like a leaf, and let his boyfriend work through the multitude of emotions that shuddered through his fragile frame.

 

This was what Harry had been scared of.

 

It took almost an hour for Theo to exhaust himself, and by that point all of Harry’s joints had seized up from sitting on the hard wooden floor, but he at no point was willing to leave Theo alone to deal with everything he was going through. Neither of them said a word as Harry helped Theo up to their bedroom and tucked Theo into their bed, lying down next to him and pressing kisses to Theo’s hair until he fell into an uneasy but deep sleep.

 

Back downstairs, Harry placed the open letter back onto the table and cleaned up the shards from where Theo had dropped his mug without realising it, mopping up the tea. He put everything away, including Theo’s pasta ingredients, and made himself toast because he didn’t have the energy to do anything more than that. He read through the Daily Prophet and wished that he and Theo could’ve just had a few more weeks to enjoy their freedom before the world came crashing back down around them.

 

It only took an hour for Theo’s nightmares to start up, more violent and loud than they normally were, and Harry was out of his seat and up the stairs a second after the screaming began. Usually they were quiet, hidden things where Harry would wake up with Theo shaking and muttering in his arms; nothing like this.

 

Nothing like the blood-curdling scream that ripped its way out of Theo’s throat as he screamed for his father to _stop, please_.

 

Harry all but launched himself onto the bed and wrapped his arms around Theo, trying to bring him out of his nightmare and back into the reality where he was scarred but safe, and healing. Theo jolted awake and gripped Harry with fingers like iron bands and sobbed uncontrollably into Harry’s chest. His clothes were soaked with tears and Harry stroked his hair through it, knowing that as much as it broke his heart to watch his boyfriend go through this without being able to do anything, that this was necessary and it was helping.

 

“I hate this,” Theo sobbed, voice raw and broken and rough like it had been when he’d grabbed Harry after the battle and made him promise to never sacrifice himself again.

 

“I know,” he replied.

 

“I hate feeling weak,” Theo continued, “I hate knowing that he still has power over me, that these scars will be on me forever, that I can’t fucking move on.”

 

“You trusted him,” Harry replied. “And he broke that trust. He’s your father and he hurt you when you never thought he would. Of course that’ll affect you, and of course you can’t move on from it immediately. But you’ll get there.”

 

Theo was silent for a few moments, only hiccoughing occasionally from the force of his previous sobs.

 

“Putting the bastard in Azkaban for the rest of his life will make me feel a hell of a lot better about it,” Theo all but growled.

 

“Don’t make a decision just yet,” Harry replied. “You’ve still got a few weeks to think it over.”

 

“I don’t _need_ to think it over. I need to look him in the eye and sentence him to hell on Earth and walk away knowing that I came out on top of this situation,” Theo spat. Harry had never seen this angry, spitfire side to Theo and while it scared him a little, Harry also understood what it was like to want revenge on the people who’d hurt you.

 

After all, he’d tried to crucio Bellatrix Lestrange, and successfully used it on Amycus Carrow after he’d had the nerve to insult Professor McGonagall.

 

Harry knew what anger and vengeance and _rage_ felt like.

 

And Samuel Nott deserved to have it directed at him.

 

* * *

 

In the two weeks leading up to the trial, Theo became a shard of burning-cold metal. His apathy towards his father and his situation had quickly turned from grief, terror and depression to a fire that consumed him. The affectionate, teasing boy that Harry had fallen in love with gave way to a being of rage and stoicism, with an iron spine and marble skin.

 

Theo became distant, but Harry recognised the same behaviour in him that he’d had when he was fifteen, the year when he’d been so angry and heartbroken and _terrified_ that he lashed out at everyone and everything that stoked the fire within him. He let Theo have his space, helped him plan what he would say in court, allowed him the time to simmer and spit.

 

And the few times that Theo cracked and broke, Harry helped piece him back together whether it was with soft hands and gentle whispers or sharp teeth and lingering bruises.

 

When the day of the trial finally came, though, Theo was every bit as soft and vulnerable as he’d been since Harry had found out that beneath his sarcastic exterior, he was just a boy who loved to draw and found beauty in everything in the world. They woke up tangled together and overheated beneath the covers, and Theo looked as though he wanted to bury himself inside Harry’s arms and never leave.

 

“C’mon,” Harry whispered, kissing Theo’s jaw. “We’ve gotta get up.”

 

“No,” Theo pouted, burrowing further into the sheets. Laughing, Harry grabbed Theo around the waist and hauled him up so he lay atop, and kissed his cheeks, eyelids, nose and forehead.

 

“You’re going to be fine,” Harry said. “I’m going to be with you the whole time, remember?”

 

“I know,” Theo sighed, settling in more comfortably, resting his chin on Harry’s collarbone. “I just… I feel like I’ve burned up all my anger and today I’m just a scared little kid again. Like I’m going to see him and just break down completely and he’ll know that it’s because of him and he’ll be _pleased._ ”

 

Harry ran his fingers feather-light up and down Theo’s spine in a soothing motion.

 

“That won’t happen,” he replied, as sure as he’d ever been.

 

“How do you know that?”

 

“Because you’re a Slytherin,” Harry grinned. “Cunning and ambitious snakes, right? You’ve got fangs and poison and your father’s just a disgraced Death Eater who chose the wrong side.”

 

Theo rolled his eyes but his lips did helplessly pull up into a little smile, and Harry knew that he’d won. They pulled each other out of bed and down into the kitchen, where they spent the morning relaxing as much as they were able, drinking coffee and reading through every article in the Daily Prophet that wasn’t about the Death Eater trials.

 

Harry hadn’t yet been called in to testify in any, but that was mostly because all the Death Eaters he’d had direct contact with were dead, with the exception of Lucius Malfoy who was having his trial held later as he was technically a defector, along with his wife and son. Harry felt bad for Draco, because even though they’d spent years hating each other, Draco still didn’t betray him to Voldemort at his Manor.

 

By the time Harry and Theo got into their robes and apparated to the Ministry, Theo was just about ready to vibrate out of his skin. Harry was under the invisibility cloak, but he’d organised with Kingsley Shacklebolt beforehand to be let into the courtroom to sit with Theo. Kingsley understood that the two of them weren’t ready to announce to the world just yet that they were together, and Harry trusted the current Minister with his life.

 

The hallways were absolutely filled to the brim with reporters, family, friends and witnesses. There were a few aurors organising everything and making sure that nobody got out of hand, and Theo had to pass his wand over for registration before being let down to the lower levels. Harry had to follow closely to not get lost or separated from him, and held onto the back of Theo’s robes.

 

The hallway outside the courtroom was familiar, considering that it was the exact same one that Harry visited at the beginning of his fifth year when he was accused of using magic illegally in front of Dudley. The same one that he escaped from with dementors and Umbridge on his tail. It was filled with the family and friends of accused Death Eaters, an entire spectrum of emotions splayed on everyone’s faces.

 

Theo awkwardly sat down on the end of an uncomfortable wooden bench, and Harry sat on the floor next to him, hand wrapped around his ankle. The time passed slowly, and nobody in the hallway was willing to break the hushed silence that fell over the area. Everyone quietly knew what they were all here for.

 

It was over an hour before Theo was called in to testify, and Harry followed in closely. The Wizengamot were decked out in their deep red robes, headed up by Kingsley Shacklebolt himself, though quite a few faces in the crowd had changed. When Harry in the past was forced to sit isolated and alone in a chair fitted with shackles in the middle of the room, the accused sat in the middle while Theo was allowed up onto the surrounding raised seating to testify from high up.

 

He refused to make eye contact with the thin man clad in ragged robes chained to the hard iron chair. Harry stared at Samuel Nott, having never seen him without a Death Eater mask on, and catalogued the way he looked like Theo and the way he didn’t.

 

Their curly, dark hair was the same, as well as the curve of their nose and the thick lashes surrounding their eyes. However, where Theo was soft and beautiful, Samuel Nott was harsh and sharp, his eyes sunken and mean where Theo’s were wide and wondrous. Harry decided that Samuel Nott could not look any less related to Theo by those facts alone.

 

Harry sat right next to Theo so they were pressed together from shoulder to ankle, providing as much support as he could. Kingsley stood up, looking regal and authoritative in his robes, and motioned for the chatter to cease.

 

“Now commences the trial of Samuel Xavier Nott, accused of twelve counts of murder, three counts of torture, fifteen counts of using an Unforgivable Curse, and of willingly and knowingly partaking in the following of Lord Voldemort,” Kingsley spoke in his deep, echoing voice. A few shudders still went around the room at the mention of Voldemort’s name.

 

“The accused is also on trial for the count of domestic violence against a minor,” Kingsley continued, and Theo swallowed thickly. “How does the defendant plead?”

 

“Guilty,” Samuel Nott grinned with pointed teeth.

 

Harry hadn’t want to hurt someone so badly since Bellatrix Lestrange.

 

The beginning of the trial was filled with listing each and every crime that Nott had knowingly committed, filled with witness statements and memories submitted from previous trials that were relevant. They watched Nott torture and kill without a care in the world, and the man continued smiling the entire time like he was watching a rom-com.

 

Harry wondered how someone could grow up with that man and still turn out as _good_ as Theo.

 

Then, finally, the trial came to the matter that they’d been called in for.

 

“The Wizengamot now calls Theodore Matias Nott to testify before the court,” Kingsley announced. “He has agreed to provide memories to strengthen his evidence against the accused. A memory technician will now extract those and submit them into evidence.”

 

Theo breathed out a long, shaky exhale as a wizard approached him, and Harry reached out to squeeze his hand once.

 

“Hello, Mr Nott,” the technician said.

  
“Theo, please.”

 

“Theo,” the woman smiled. “I’m Alicia. I want you to focus on the memories we’re going to extract – you don’t need to focus on them in detail, I just need to make sure we get the right ones. Are you ready?”

 

“Yeah,” Theo breathed. Alicia leaned in and put the tip of her wand to Theo’s temple. He took a deep breath, and Alicia murmured the spell and then slowly pulled her wand away. The familiar white glow appeared at Theo’s temple, and an incorporeal string connected her wand and Theo’s temple before it fell away from his skin, and retracted up into Alicia’s wand. She crossed the room and placed it into the pensieve, and it was projected for everyone to see.

 

_Theo was writing a letter, a small and discreet messaging box sitting on the corner of his desk. It lay open and waiting, the eye staring out a smooth sea green. A chill carried through the air and Theo pulled on a deep green sweater. The entire house seemed to shake with the force of how strongly the front door shut downstairs._

_“THEO!” came the booming voice of his father, echoing through the halls. Without hesitation, Theo put his quill away and exited his bedroom, walking out onto the landing to look at his father. He was pacing back and forth in the marble entryway, clearly absolutely furious, fingers clenched into fists so hard he was nearly cracking his wand open._

_“Father?” Theo asked, voice quiet in the still air. “What’s wrong?”_

_Samuel Nott’s head snapped up, and there was pure rage in his eyes as he looked at his son._

_“What’s wrong?” he spat. “What’s **wrong**? The problem is, oh son of mine, that I am the only follower of the Dark Lord whose son has not yet taken the Mark. Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle have all gladly and with loyalty taken the Mark and the missions that the Dark Lord has bestowed upon them, and they laugh at me when I tell them that my son is too weak and too sensitive to be trusted with such things!”_

_Theo crossed his arms over his chest, almost as a defence._

_“You know I don’t want to get involved,” Theo replied._

_“That’s the **problem**!” Nott hissed, spit flying from his mouth. “You’re too cowardly to pick a side! So I’ll pick it for you, boy. Come with me now, kneel before the Dark Lord, and receive his Mark with pride.”_

_“Or what? You’ll ground me?”_

_Nott’s face switched between shades of red and purple before the tension left his frame and he utterly relaxed. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he seemed almost calm._

_“I see that you still won’t be swayed,” Nott said, voice deceptively calm like the stillness before a storm. “That stubborn cowardice you inherited from your mother. I suppose, then, that I am forced to persuade you.”_

_Nott slashed his wand harshly through the air, and the world exploded in light as Theo screamed out in pain. He bowed from the pain and took a step forward into open air, tumbling down the staircase, coming to a stop before his father. Pained breaths echoed through the room, Theo clearly trying to hold back the noises that tried to leave his mouth. He stared up at the ceiling high above him, chandelier gently swaying, until it was blocked from his view by the face of his father who came to stand over him._

_A foot pushed Theo over onto his stomach, and Theo began to crawl towards the front door. He didn’t get far before he screamed again and collapsed to the cold tile, his own face reflected in the black marble, teeth gritted in pain._

_“You need to learn a lesson, boy,” Nott snarled from above him. “Life is pain, and pain makes you stronger. You cannot afford to be weak, like your mother. You must become strong, and join the Dark Lord, and bring prosperity and pride to our family name.”_

_“Go to Hell,” Theo spat. He then screamed out as pain burst in his back, slashing across his skin like a burning hot knife ripping his sinew apart, and he fell once again to the tile._

_“I never wanted you in the first place,” Nott hissed. “But I thought that perhaps there was only a small amount of your mother’s Mudblood weakness in you. Now I see that I would have been right to give you up, or kill you before you became such a problem. You **will** join the Dark Lord, Theodore. I guarantee it.”_

_With that, Nott’s shoes clicked on the tile as he walked off further into the house and slammed a door behind him. Theo lay on the floor, sobbing from the pain, fingers scrabbling uselessly for purchase in the smooth tile. Out of the corner of his eye, blood dripped from his side and down onto the tile._

_“I’m sorry,” Theo cried under his breath. “I’m sorry.”_

Harry had to slap a hand over his mouth to stop himself from sobbing aloud or screaming in rage. Theo’s gaze had gone flat and closed off as he stared into the distance. Rage built up so strongly in Harry that it took everything he had to not whip the cloak off and to torture Nott until he screamed just as loudly as his son had.

 

A few members of the Wizengamot were staring blankly ahead with tears in their eyes, and a few were openly sobbing. Alicia sent Theo an apologetic look before she placed the other memory into the pensieve, and it continued again.

 

_Theo was sitting as his desk again, though his hands were shaking as he held his quill over parchment, drops of ink spilling off and staining the blank surface. His arms were bare, and the multitude of thin, savage cuts littered his upper arms, some of them still scabbed up and raw._

_The front door slammed shut, and Theo jumped. He immediately dropped his quill and reached for his wand, turning to look at his door as his father’s footsteps got closer and closer. The door was locked, so when Nott tried to open it, the door shuddered in its frame but held._

_“Theodore, open this door,” came Nott’s voice through the wood, and he sounded murderous._

_  
“No,” Theo replied back, trying to keep the shaking out of his voice. “Not while you’re like this.”_

_“Open this **door** ,” Nott yelled, kicking the door so hard it shook. Theo sprung to his feet and grabbed a bag from beneath his bag and waved his wand. Multiple items came flying from around the room and neatly packed themselves inside, and he swung it over his shoulder, facing the door with his wand outstretched in front of him. _

_Nott kicked the door twice more before it broke open, and Nott had murder in his eyes._

_Theo sent a stunning spell at his father as quickly as he could, though Nott deflected it with ease. Theo quickly followed it up with a blasting spell, which Nott mostly deflected but it sent him skidding back a few paces out into the hallway. Nott snarled and fired back, and Theo put up a shield instantly before sending out three spells in quick succession. The last hurled his father into the bannister, and Theo took the opportunity to run out past him, nearly tumbling down the stairs again in his hurry to get out._

_A spell from behind nearly knocked Theo off his feet but he kept going, flinging the front door open with magic, and he burst out onto the porch. The gravel of the pathway crunched beneath his feet with every desperate step, and the last thing he heard before he escaped the property line was his father threatening to kill him. Theo turned in place, and after a second of pure darkness, arrived just outside Hogwarts grounds, and he collapsed as soon as he made it inside the school gates._

_“Fuck,” Theo swore, staring down at the grass beneath him. He took a few seconds to catch his breath, then got to his feet, and trudged down the path to the castle._

 

Harry nearly fell off the bench he was sitting on in relief, not even having noticed that he’d been holding his breath so tightly while Theo had been running for his life. Harry hadn’t even _known_ while he’d been on the run that Theo would be in any sort of danger, let alone something like _that_.

 

He clenched onto Theo’s thigh with such tight desperation he was sure that a bruise would be left, and now he understood how Theo felt when they finally reunited after Voldemort had been killed. Theo breathed out slowly, but seemed more stable than he had been after the first memory. He stared down at his father with flame-filled eyes, burning hot like dark coals, and curled his lip into a sneer.

 

Alicia had tears running down her face as she extracted the memories from the pensieve and bottled them into small vials for evidence collection. Every single member of the Wizengamot glared down at Nott with hatred-filled eyes, and the man wasn’t smiling or laughing any longer.

 

After a few seconds of enraged silence, Kingsley got to his feet.

 

“The evidence speaks for itself,” he said. “Theodore Nott bravely shared these memories with us, and should be commended for such courage. As for the defendant, I believe that the sentence from the Wizengamot is unanimous.”

 

Everyone nodded, and a few hissed and threw cusses at Nott.

 

“Samuel Xavier Nott, you are sentenced to life in Azkaban with no chance of parole,” Kingsley announced. “May you rot in there.”

 

Nott bared his teeth as he lunged forward at Kingsley, but the shackles on the chair held him firmly in place. The aurors by the door came forward to take Nott into custody, and as he was dragged out, Theo stood up and calmly watched him leave.

 

“That concludes trial 98-213, and the trials for this afternoon,” Kingsley said. “We reconvene at six.”

 

The Wizengamot filed out, and once they had all left the room, Harry threw the cloak over Theo and pulled his boyfriend into his arms, hugging him so hard he might’ve been cutting off Theo’s breathing.

 

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” Harry breathed into Theo’s neck, holding back his tears. “I love you so much, and you are so unbelievably brave.”

 

Theo huffed in reply and gripped Harry’s robes back just as tightly.

 

“Damn right I am,” he laughed wetly. When Harry finally pulled back, Theo had tears in his eyes, though they didn’t escape down his cheeks.

 

“So,” Harry said.

 

“So.”

 

“Want to get a drink?” Harry asked, and Theo burst out laughing.

 

“Fuck yeah,” Theo said. “Firewhisky’s on you.”

 

Harry wrapped his arm around Theo’s waist, pressed a kiss to his jawline, and pulled the cloak off him. They exited the Ministry without talking to any reporters, and apparated to the closest bar they could think of that wasn’t the Leaky Cauldron. Harry dropped six galleons onto the counter, and they got famously, fabulously, _entirely_ drunk.

 

They went home wrapped up in each other’s arms, giggling and sucking marks into any inch of skin they could possibly find. The buttons got ripped off their robes and shirts, and Theo forgot all about the day’s events as he laughed joyously through his orgasm.

 

* * *

 

A week later, they showed up at the edge of the Weasley property with a plate of brownies in hand that Theo had baked from scratch. Theo looked up at the teetering silhouette of the Burrow in the setting sun, and swallowed.

 

“Are you sure about this?” Harry asked. “We can always turn back and go back home, read to Teddy or something. There’s absolutely no pressure on you to do this.”

 

“Wow, Harry, it’s almost like you don’t want to tell them that I’m your boyfriend,” Theo teased. Harry elbowed him in the side, gently though, so that Theo didn’t drop the brownies.

 

“I’m just saying, you don’t _need_ to do this.”

 

“No, I don’t,” Theo said. “But I want to. They’re your family.”

 

“ _You’re_ my family.”

 

Theo smiled at Harry, leaning over for a kiss, his dark curls blowing gently over his forehead in the soft sunset wind. Harry wrapped his arm around Theo’s waist when they pulled apart, and the two of them walked calmly up the Weasleys’ driveway, the familiar cacophony of sound getting louder the closer to the Burrow they got.

 

Harry felt a little weird about waltzing straight in with Theo, so he knocked politely on the door. They heard Mrs Weasley say _now who could that be_ from inside, and within seconds the front door was swinging open to reveal her surprised face.

 

“Harry!” she grinned, pulling Harry into a familiar motherly hug. “I was starting to think you’d never turn up! And who is this boy with you?”

 

Harry stepped back and pressed a kiss to Theo’s cheek.

 

“This is my boyfriend, Theo Nott,” he introduced. “Theo, this is my adoptive mother Molly Weasley.” Mrs Weasley blushed at Harry’s words and reached out to take the plate of brownies off Theo’s hands.

 

“Glad to meet you, Theo, I’ve heard so much about you from Ginny and the others,” she said. “It would seem that I owe a lot to you.”

 

Theo shrugged bashfully. “It was nothing, Mrs Weasley, really.”

 

“Come in, make yourselves comfortable!” Mrs Weasley said, and then turned to holler into the house that they had arrived. A veritable stampede of footsteps echoed from the kitchen and down the stairs, and soon the entire lounge was filled with Weasleys and Grangers.

 

“Harry, you made it!” Hermione beamed, running forward to crush him into a hug. “And you’ve brought Theo! Can I introduce you both to my parents?”

 

And indeed, at the very back of the crowd of redheads, stood two very overwhelmed Grangers.

 

“Nice to meet you,” Harry called out.

 

“Wait,” Ron said. “Did Mum just say that Theo’s your _boyfriend?_ ”

 

“It’s… a long story,” Harry sighed. He was surprised when Ron swore loudly, got slapped over the back of the head for it, and then had to reach into his pocket to pass three sickles over to a smug Ginny.

 

“Knew it,” she winked. “Now don’t stand in the doorway all day boys, come on, eat!”

 

And Harry and Theo were drawn into a crowd of excited, healing Weasleys, and had never felt more at home.

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> **If you'd like me to write you something, information can be found on my tumblr:[HERE](https://tricksterity.tumblr.com/post/167729545737/commission-time-open-the-basics-im-a)**
> 
>  
> 
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> (also... please leave comments.... I am feeling very unloved over here)


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